Hail Hydra: Unwanted Destiny
by ilikehats2
Summary: I am Jillian Shmidt. I am the great granddaughter of the Red Skull. I am a trained killer at only 16, and my great grandfather says that it is my destiny to be the next Madame Hydra. But to prove myself, I must first kill Tony Stark. Except, I don't want this life. I don't want to be Hydra. I don't want to Hail Hydra.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel branded character, most importantly: Iron Man, Hulk, Hawk-Eye, Black Widow, Captain America, and Thor. I do not own Hydra, SHIELD, Red Skull, Director Fury, Maria Hill or anything else cannon.**

**I however own my idea in this story and the way I portray it as such. **

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><p><em><strong>It was a dark, stormy day in little Delaware County, New York. Rain was assaulting the car with the speed equivalent to a bullet, louder than the car engine. Up front sitting casually in the front seat, were two adults, saying things I couldn't understand, except one word, my name. Whenever they said it, I would give out a little sound, causing one of them to glance back at me with their brown eyes. At least, in the dim lighting they looked brown. My eyes had drifted towards the window, watching as a crackle of hot plasma ripped through the clouds, a blinding flash of photons. The loud grisly roar of the sky accompanied it, causing me to scream at the top of my lungs. Both of the adults jumped, startled by my loud cry and turned to look at me instinctually. The man at the wheel didn't realize it, but the car was drifting and suddenly, bright yellow headlights were the only things shining through the windshield, the woman's screaming filling the vacant space in one final moment and then- <strong>_

The roar of thunder had me screaming, falling out of my bed in a heap of limbs and fabric. My face soon met with the soft, miscellaneously pattern rug I keep in my room for emergencies. My breathing came in quick gasps, as I slowly took in my surroundings.

_'It's just a night mare, nothing to be afraid of Jill...' _I slowly sat up, untangling myself in the process and hoped I didn't wake anyone.

I look over at my clock, seeing how early is was, but for me that means its late. I quickly climb off the floor and reach for the trunk at the end of my bed and strip of my pajamas. I toss them aside, pulling out my black turtle neck, my black jeans and my combat boots. I grab my black leather finger less gloves and slip them on. I quickly turn to the tiny mirror in my cubicle, staring at the exhausted mess that is my dark brown hair and work to braid it quickly. My dark eyes don't leave my imagine. When a crackle of lightning sears across the sky and briefly illuminates my face, I'm like a porcelain doll with her pale face and soft elegant hair. But in the darkness, I am nothing special, I am not beautiful. I'm just a monster, unrecognizable.

I take the bag resting under my pillow and climb out the window. Immediately I draw back as the snaps of lightning continue to echo, but I don't have time to be childish. I set my eyes on the tall building five blocks away, with the large A proudly on top of it, glowing in the brief moments of light. I make my way down the fire escape with relative ease as I think about the mission I was give.

Eliminate IronMan, that was my mission. Out of all the Avengers, it was less dangerous to kill him, plus he was one of the worlds most promising inventors. He had several different countries and companies depending on him, once he was gone, there would be a shock wave to send the industrial part of the world collapsing. The private sectors, private security, everything Stark Industries was would be momentarily gone, leaving enough time for the wheels to be set in motion.

I stopped on the sidewalk, staring up at the building quietly and pulled out a small, trapezoidal device. It was a scrambler, meant to scramble the security software of any kind and keep it out of the loop. I simply pressed the red button and tossed it towards the front door, watching it quietly before entering the building.

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><p><em><strong>"Enkelin," My great grandfather spoke, his German accent soothing. He laid in his cot in front of me, "My child, you will soon be ready..." <strong>_

_**"What more do you need from me, Urgroßvater" My head was lowered, and despite keeping my head down and eyes to the floor, I was painfully aware of the guards lined around the room. **_

_**"Enkelin, you know very well what you must do for me now..." His commands came in German, but I understood none the less. I had to kill Anthony Stark, I had to eliminate him if I wanted this. **_

The memory of the assignment entered my subconscious as I checked all my gear, securing it where they belong. I slung my bag over one shoulder, a knife in hand. Great grand father would want me to kill him painfully, and while it wasn't an explicit order it became such a habit that all I could think about was slowly killing him with nothing but the knife in my hand. As the elevator doors opened and I stepped towards his bedroom door, a small smile filled me.

There was no security to prevent this, there was nothing to alert the Avengers. I was going to kill Anthony Stark like great grand father wanted. I was going to become what was expected of me.

Just as I opened the door, a blinding blue light blinded me, throwing me back into the closed elevator doors with a slam. Blinking the black dots from my eyes, I see the glowing arc reactor and the glowing eyes of IronMan staring back at me with a pulser ray charging in his right palm. I weakly raise my head to stare at him, the blue glow casting a scary, deathly glow along my skin. I get to my feet, staring at the knife I dropped during the blast and reached for my gun, waiting for him to say something.

Just as I move closer, firing three bullets at the armor does the elevator door open. Theres soon a gun pressed to the back of my head, a knife under my chin as more Avengers file out from behind me, spreading out on either side of Tony.

"You woke us up because of a kid?" The annoyed archer I recognize as Hawk-Eye complained. I eye each Avenger, from Doctor Banner to Thor himself, my eyes landing on Iron Man and Captain America the longest. I glare at them, but toss the gun into a corner because I know full well that the Black Widow will kill me if I give her a reason to.

I raise my hands carefully up in surrender, immediately noticing that the knife has left my throat. But my hands instead grip her wrists twisting the gun upwards. I keep the struggle steady with one arm before elbowing the Widow in the abdomen. She barely recoils however and I start aiming for her knees. I kick at them, struggling with the gun that we are both fighting, but my finger is on the trigger and I press it. The sound fills the room and all the men get down as ceiling flakes fall on us like snow. The Widow sends a glare over my shoulder as we struggle, her fist connecting with my face. I spit at her, struggling to atleast dispose of the gun somewhere when pain explodes in my left calf.

Immediately, I tear away from her seeing an arrow sticking out of my calf. I ignore it, quickly evading the shield that is hurtling towards my side. My eyes stray to Bruce Banner, who is standing there passively and in deep concentration. Because he is the most vulnerable I slip out a dagger and throw it at him, watching it stick in her shoulder. But when he stares at me, his eyes are an unnatural green. Green filled his skin, his muscles began to grow and grow, his transformation happening in one, fluid motion. Without a word, his green hand swats me away like I am a fly, my body colliding with the right wall. The impact took every but of oxygen out of me, my body sprawled on the floor. My brain was cloudy, I felt numb, not cold or anything. Just... I couldn't move, I felt separate from my body, like I was a soul trapped in a void.

I heard heavy footsteps walking towards me, my eyes feebly opening. I hadn't realized that they were closed, but I immediately flinched as a large green foot hovered over my head. I flinched, preparing for my end, when a voice stopped it.

"Hulk! No, we can't killed her."

I feebly glanced up to see Captain America, standing nearby with his shield. He was protecting me? Hulk glanced over at him and then back at me. I struggled to lift my head up and only let it fall, closing my eyes tightly against the sudden pain I caused myself.

I felt a gentle hand rest against my shoulder, arms carefully wrapping around me, "She needs a doctor.." But I let myself drift away through the pain, letting their voices become soft and meticulous.

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><p><strong>I used google translate. Enkelin is Granddaughter and the narrator is calling the man Great grand father. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel branded character, most importantly: Iron Man, Hulk, Hawk-Eye, Black Widow, Captain America, and Thor. I do not own Hydra, SHIELD, Red Skull, Director Fury, Maria Hill or anything else cannon.**

**I however own my idea in this story and the way I portray it as such. **

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><p>The first time I woke up, my eyes refused to open. Whatever feeble attempts I made did not go as I had expected, for it was too bright in the room. I had a persistent head ache, and my body felt heavy, an anchor holding me in bed all on it's own. I vaguely remember being in an elevator, but I don't remember falling asleep ever. Before I could think more on the matter, I had chosen to drift back asleep, finding the bed suddenly cozy.<p>

The second time I woke up, there was a hand on my cheek. I had my eyes closed, turning away from it instead and tried to protest. But even I did not understand what I was saying. I turned onto my side, but when I was met with discomfort and pain my eyes flew open. My hand rested on it, to feel the familiar texture of bandages wrapped around my abdomen. I blinked, confused staring first where my hand was resting to the figure in the room. Bruce Banner was wearing a purple shirt, his dark hair unruly as he glanced at me. I could tell underneath his shirt was a bandage but I couldn't remember why. I could tell there was just the slightest rise in it, I could see the at the very edge of his collar.

"What happened to your shoulder?" I asked in a soft whisper, my words slurring together. I attempted to not yawn, but it failed miserably.

"Rest..." He whispered, keeping his hands to his side now. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to piece things together, but I came up with nothing before closing my eyes again.

The third time I woke up, I was alone again. But outside the door I could hear the muffling sounds of what must be an argument concerning me, I could see the shadows of the figures through the opaque glass. I lifted my head up from the blanket, glancing around and seeing in the far corner, through squinted eyelids, an X-Ray of my ribs. My ribs were broken, but the good thing was that they didn't puncture my lungs.

In the far corner were all of my clothes, causing me to glance down and see I was wearing hospital like scrubs. A soft groan escaped me as I tiredly rested my head against my soft pillow.

What was I going to do? What am I going to do? I failed to kill Tony Stark and I'm no doubt going to go to jail. They're gonna probably kill me too, give me the death penalty. Panic started to surge in me and I covered my face shaking.

"Oh no..." My throat felt like it was closing, my eyes were burning. I didn't want to die, I really didn't. I would rather be home, being punished by my great grand father. I'd rather be yelled at and beaten for my failure to complete my mission. I didn't want to die though, yes I didn't want to live under my great grand fathers roof, but he wouldn't kill me. At least, I don't think he'd kill me.

_Great Granddad... _My eyes widened, looking around. He wasn't gonna kill me. No... He would do worse if he could. He-he wouldn't let this go, he wouldn't let this failure go ignored. He'd make sure I learned my lesson, every detail of it and never forget.

_'Jill... Get a hold of yourself for a moment. Calm down. Your safe from him, he can't get you. He has no way of getting to you, and if he did end up in the States, if he did, there's a tower full of Avengers here to act as a buffer and barrier. Your gonna be fine. This is the opportunity you've been dreaming of. To get away from him,' _I told myself. And this was, this was my opportunity. I've just been to scared and focus to realize it. Maybe if I turn myself in, they'd go easy on me. I am a minor after all, I'm only sixteen.

The creek of the door caught my attention, standing in front of me was Captain America himself, he was wearing a regular white shirt and blue jeans. His hair was ruffled, and he looked rather attractive like that, like a model. Following him was the good Dr. Banner, carrying in a tray of steaming hot soup.

"Good, you're awake," Mr. America smiled, closing the door behind them and hiding the figures of Hawk-Eye, Stark, and someone else I couldn't recognize. Dr. Banner gently placed the tray down and helped me sit up.

"There you go.." He says, "How you feeling?"

"Better..." My voice is squeaky and feeble, making me clear it, "Everything is a bit bright and my head aches a tiny bit. My ribs feel... Well, I can't feel anything from them."

"How about your leg?"

"What's wrong with my leg?" I ask genuinely confused and maneuver my legs out from under the blankets. My left calf was wrapped up tight with gauze and bandages. What happened?

"You got shot with an arrow," Dr. Banner says, watching me carefully, "Whats the last thing you remember?"

"Getting blasted into the elevator by Ironman..." I say reaching to take the spoon, however, as I fill it with soup, I spill it into the bowl before bringing it to my mouth. I scowl, trying again as Dr. Banner watches me.

"Mild amnesia, normal with a concussion, as is coordination issues. And the pain medication must be working effectively," He watched me as I manage to swallow a small spoon full. I recognize it as kielbasa potato soup, the heat filling me up, and it feels good.

"Will she be ok for questioning?" Captain America asks.

Before Dr. Banner has a chance to answer, I speak up, "Yes!"

However, Dr. Banner contradicts me with a scowl, "Give her a bit of recover Steve, she just woke up."

I sigh, and just turn back to my soup, bringing a shaky arm up to my mouth when the door slammed open. I practically jump out of my skin and spill the hot soup on me, expecting it to be my great grand father. Only to see that it's Tony, with a very pissed off expression, behind him is a woman with strawberry blonde hair.

"Barton and Romanoff are getting antsy... Is she ready for interrogation or not?"

My breath hitched without me noticing, my spoon falling into my soup. Bruce glared at the billionaire while the woman smacks him.

"Tony!" She cried out, "It's not interrogation!"

"Tell Nat and Clint that they can come in and talk to her in a civil manner," Captain America says, stressing the word civil.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel branded character, most importantly: Iron Man, Hulk, Hawk-Eye, Black Widow, Captain America, and Thor. I do not own Hydra, SHIELD, Red Skull, Director Fury, Maria Hill or anything else cannon.**

**I however own my idea in this story and the way I portray it as such. **

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><p>As Bruce busied himself with changing the blankets, I sat patiently. Standing in front of me, was the dirty blonde archer known as Hawk-Eye. He was leaning against the wall, staring at me. I looked at him silently, then turned my head towards the door hearing footsteps.<p>

"About time Nat," Hawk-Eye comments, turning to look at his partner as she entered.

"I was on an important call with Fury," The Black Widow stared at me with her steely green eyes before dragging a chair over and sat in it backwards. I subconsciously tried to straighten my posture as Bruce laid new blankets over my legs.

"Thank you," I whispered as he started to leave, turning to the assassins.

"Call if you need me, don't kill her."

As the door closed and his footsteps retreated, I was left alone with two of the deadliest people on earth. I gripped the edge of the bed searching their faces nervously before Hawk-Eye walked over to stand next to his partner. Clearly, the panic in my eyes gave them a clue that I wasn't going to be lying very much.

"Let's start with something simple," The Black Widow starts, grabbing a note pad and pen, "What's your full name?"

"Jillian Shmidt," All I could hear was the click of the pen, the slight sound it made as it met the paper. I could hear each letter being written out, my heart thundering. Great grand father said that I should never be intimidated by these people, that they should be scared of me. But when they had the chance and opportunity to kill me when I couldn't fight them off, I had to get smart fast.

"Age?" Hawk-Eye asked, eyes focused on the notepad. He was looking over the Black Widow's shoulder curiously.

"Sixteen."

"List your immediate family," They say, but I don't answer. My gaze is focused on this invisible point beyond them, the knots in my stomach tightening and loosening all at once. What do I tell them? What do I say?

"Miss Shmidt, list your immediate family," But I still didn't answer, the roar of rain and the screeching of tires ringing in my ears.

"They call me kleine Schlange back at home," I whisper, not answering the question and giving them useless information. There's a lost look in my eyes, the pain glazing over them. I can see it in the metal counters reflection.

"I will ask one last time, list your immediate family," There was frustration in their voices, impatience. I swallowed the lump in my throat and forcefully directed my gaze to them. But the best I could do was stare at the quiver resting against Hawk-Eye's back.

"Dead..." I whispered, "No siblings. No god parents."

"Who takes care of you?"

I took a long time to answer, because this was as honest as I could answer, "I take care of myself."

I can see it in their eyes, the frowns, the skepticism. I don't see pity, I see hints of sympathy and empathy but they don't fully believe me. And I understand why I took too long to answer.

"Why are you here?"

I focus my gaze now at their shoes, their dark boots no doubt filled with hidden hatchets and knifes. I feel my shoulders sag opening my mouth to answer but close it because the words don't come. However, just before the Black Widow can ask again, I answer, "I was ordered to."

They blink at me, my eyes drifting up when I see my Russian interrogator stand and place the clipboard down. She walks over to me, staring me straight in the eyes as her next question comes, something flickered behind her eyes as though she's scared of my next answer, "Who do you work for?"

"They wanted to eliminate Stark Industries," I say, "In the small time it takes for the company to recover from the blow, several Stark dependent countries and companies would be searching for something else to rely on. Another industry, someone else to give them the tech they need and want."

"That's not what I'm asking," She says her hand resting on my shoulder now. I can feel the nail of her thump at my throat, her calloused fingers brushing the back of my neck. I refrain from moving it, because I know if I do it will only escalate out of control.

She waves something to Hawk-Eye, as if they had anticipated this from me and he goes to the door, manually locking it. He shoved a chair under the door nob, before grabbing a short, silver glinting knife from his pocket. I start to panic, he can see it in my eyes.

"Who do you work for?"

"The company is a fake, a mirage. It's to be an unsuspecting parasite to all the countries and companies that rely on it. It's nothing but trouble, Czaszka is nothing but-"

"Who do you work for?" Her hand was slightly tighter, sending goosebumps along my skin as Hawk-Eye came closer. He brings the knife up to me and my cheek suddenly stings. It happened so gently I didn't realize it. But now I have a bleeding cut on my left cheek, and I can feel the hand tightening.

My mouth opens, but it's a moment too late as the grip becomes unbearable along the right side of my neck. I make a squeal of protest, hoping that JARVIS takes the hint and grab onto Black Widows wrist. I hold it tightly, pinching it and try to twist it away. But a strong slap to the face makes me stop and squeeze my eyes shut. The hand is removed only to be replaced by a larger more calloused one, gripping the top of my head as cold metal rests neat my throat.

"Who ordered you to kill Tony Stark?"

I can hear the footsteps, they're running towards the room. I keep my eyes closed and bite my lip. But I can feel them hovering over me, wanting answers. I'm worried that they'll kill me now, whether I answer or not. I take a deep breath and slowly open my eyes to see their faced over mine, close together with identical serious looks.

"Hydra..." I whisper, the shame heavy. I shut my eyes quickly as the anger and outrage sparks in them, "I work for Hydra.."

I feel the knife disappear, but I brace myself for the upcoming pain. I prepare myself for what was sure to come next whispering, "Es tut mir leid, bitte nicht mich zu verletzen, Es tut mir leid, bitte nicht mich zu verletzen."

I can feel the oncoming attack, but I also feel it halt when the door slams open, a voice shouting, "BARTON ROMANOFF! UPSTAIRS NOW!"

I hear someone walk in, gently tending to the injury on my cheek. From the tender hands I suspect it to be Dr. Banner, and I know it's him when he whispers comforting words to me. At his gentle touch and gentle words I relax, finding that the good doctor wouldn't hurt me, like a father wouldn't hurt his daughter.

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><p><strong>All from Google Translate. It could be wrong. Don't use this for your homework! <strong>

**German- **

**Es tut mir leid, bitte nicht mich zu verletzen: I'm sorry, please do not hurt me **

**kleine Schlange: Little snake**

**Polish-**

**Czaszka: Skull  
><strong>

**That's the chapter. I'm sorry if Barton and Romanoff seemed like jerks in this chapter, they're secretly being protective of Tony. They don't want any more attempts on any of their lives. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel branded character, most importantly: Iron Man, Hulk, Hawk-Eye, Black Widow, Captain America, and Thor. I do not own Hydra, SHIELD, Red Skull, Director Fury, Maria Hill or anything else cannon.**

**I however own my idea in this story and the way I portray it as such. **

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><p>After the Q and A, if I could call it that, from Hawk-Eye and Black Widow, I kept to myself for the rest of the day. I wasn't entirely left alone, Dr. Banner kept me company. He would mostly check me over and make sure my pain killers didn't wear off to where I was in deep discomfort, which I appreciated. He took care of my cheek, telling me it would be ok and that it didn't need any stitches and watch Tony's droids repair the door Captain America ripped off of it's hinges.<p>

"Thank you again Dr. Banner," I say as he removes my dinner tray from my lap. It was a rather good soup, though I had a little during lunch. But I don't complain, I like the hot meal, it's delicious none the less.

"Your welcome," He says calmly, "If you need anything, just tell JARVIS and if he can't help you I'll come right down."

"Ok, thank you."

I watch him head upstairs to no doubt eat his own dinner or get ready for some down time. He's been with me for most of the day, and while he asks polite and mature around me I know bubbling beneath the surface is some sort of anger. I know deep down he isn't happy with my life choice, and that he would rather not be with me. But he was professional, he had to act professional, I respect that because he at least fakes his respect for me and acts civil.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes? How may I help you Miss Shmidt?"

"Do you know what's going to happen to me?" I ask hesitantly. I was not fully prepared to let my guard down here, when I know a security system will protect me. But what if JARVIS turned a blind eye or he was sabotaged? I was unsettled with the ideas of someone coming to get me when I least expected it.

"I'm afraid not Miss Shmidt, however, I do know that Miss Romanoff and Mr. Barton are on a very important computer conference in Ms. Romanoff's room. I can assure you that none of the Avengers will let anything happen to you here."

But I'm not entirely convinced, "Who are they talking to?"

"I am afraid I cannot disclose that information, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No thank you JARVIS, but... would you mind warning me when someone's coming, I don't like being snuck up on."

"As you wish ma'am."

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><p><strong>My eyes snap open at the sound of dripping, to see a dark expanse above me. As I sit up, my hand touches something hot and wet, for a moment the image of blood coming to mind. But as I look down, I see dark water pooling at my feet. It soaks through my clothes rather quickly, and I scramble to my feet, looking up to see a dripping pipe. Except, it's not so much as dropping as streaming out in a small, slow leak. But the water travels fast. <strong>

**I turn, seeing an open door at the other end of the room and run towards it. I'm stopped however, by an invisible barrier, trapping me and the water on one side while the other side remains untouched. It's not glass, it's not as brittle, but I don't know what it is. I bang my fists and run my shoulders into it for a few minutes, trying to see if it will give way, but it seems to just throw me back into the water, which is rising faster and faster to my kneecaps. The pipe is spilling more water at a very steady, exponential rate. **

**I bang against the barrier, screaming for help. I scream in every language I know; German, English, Polish, French, Danish. But no one comes, and I scream louder and louder when I see shadows pass the door. I only stop when I have to thread the water and keep my head afloat. I know that no ones coming and I squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears in. **

**When they open though, I see my mom and dad. I see their young faces, frozen in these phony smiles that don't reach their eyes. My great grand father stood behind them, standing in front of the barrier. I saw his lips moving, but I didn't hear a word he said. **

**It all happened so fast, my great grand father spun around, a knife slicing my parents throats as he disappeared into thin air, the blood pooled beneath them. I screamed in shock and fear my head suddenly going under. Except, it wasn't water anymore, it was blood. **

My scream didn't reach my ears as my eyes snapped open. I didn't realize I was sitting up, drenched in a cold sweat that made me think of the water, made me want to scream. I was breathing heavily, the air coming in and out with shaky breathes.

The room was dark, judging from the shadows of the clock it had to be a bit after midnight. I had goosebumps, and I started to examine every little detail of my room. There was a dull, blue glow from all the little machines in the room, not much to brighten the room. I sit in my bed, nervously, trying to pull myself together. But I can't help think of two things, my dream and what will happen tomorrow. I am only sixteen, I don't want to die, I don't want to go to jail, but I certainly don't want to go back home where Hydra is waiting.

_But what do the Avengers have in store for me? What will happen to me? _

Slowly, I lay back down, keeping my breathes even. I gently drop my hand so it touches the bandages around my torso, feeling it's texture. I will never fall back asleep now, but I should at least try. Dr. Banner will not be awake for a few more hours and it's pointless to lay here and wait. And I need all the rest I can get for the unexpected tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel branded character, most importantly: Iron Man, Hulk, Hawk-Eye, Black Widow, Captain America, and Thor. I do not own Hydra, SHIELD, Red Skull, Director Fury, Maria Hill or anything else cannon.**

**I however own my idea in this story and the way I portray it as such. **

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><p>I gripped the arms of the wheelchair as Dr. Banner pushes me towards a conference room. I had insisted in walking but he didn't want me exercising my leg and risk my sides when I'm a bit heavy on the pain killers and bump into things. I really couldn't make an argument, I was itching to close my eyes and fall asleep.<p>

When Dr. Banner opened the door, my head was lazily lolled to the side, my right cheek smushed into my palm in an effort to keep my head up. I blinked rapidly at the change of light, the conference room was brighter. I wasn't sure if it was due to the windows or that there were more lights in the room, but for a split moment it woke me up. I saw Captain America sitting very politely, blonde hair slightly disheveled and in jeans and a red shirt, nursing a cup of coffee. He was watching me, flashing a smile at us though it was for Dr. Banner. Hawk-Eye was hunched over, arm propped up while across the table he was arm wrestling Tony Stark. His partner sat to his left two seats away, her black boots up on the table as well, crossed while she watched the doorway out of the corner of one eye and the arm wrestling match out of the other. Sitting next to Tony, was the blonde Asgardian leaning forward and cheering on his friend in to hopes he would win. As Dr. Banner closed the door, I watched as Tony's arm pushed against Hawk-Eye's the muscles slightly bulging. In shock, I watched as Hawk-Eye's arm was pushed into the table, Tony Stark leaping up in that instant.

"OH YEAH! TAKE THAT BIRD BOY!" The billionaire cheered like a child.

"I want a rematch!"

"Why? Embarrassed that you lost to the great, beloved, most intelligent Anthony-"

"Guys!" Captain America was up on his feet to break up the argument. His voice held a strict tone of authority, catching everyone's attention even if they had no business in it. I felt what little courage I didn't know I have evaporate at the sound. He was a born leader, and I had no doubt in my mind that as the Alpha of the Avengers, he had a lot of away.

I didn't notice Dr. Banner pushing me towards the table until he was greeted by Thor. I glanced over them all, noticing that they were all staring at me with wary, distrustful expressions. I suddenly felt vulnerable as Dr. Banner moves to take a seat next to Tony.

"So... First order of business," Captain America spoke after a few moments of silence. I shift ever so slightly, immediately catching the attention of the assassins. I glance down worriedly, "Miss Shmidt."

"Should we not wait for the Instructor of Rage before we decide the lady's fate?" Thor asks, somewhat familiar with SHIELD's procedures now.

"Right here Goldie locks."

I crane my head back to see that the door was silently opened, with a dark figure standing in the doorframe. He had dark African skin and a bald head, a dark black eye patch over what I think is his left eye. The eye patch was the same color as his goatee and wore a dark trench coat over his dark shirt and trousers. This man was the very personification of terrifying, you could see it in his scowl.

"Director Fury," Captain America greeted him, watching the man as well as he strolled into the room. He stopped beside me though, eyeing my inquisitively and bringing nervous goosebumps to the service.

"So this is the Hydra Operative?" He spun the wheel chair so I was facing him. His hand tilted my head up so I had to look him right in the eye. My stomach did a flip, knotting up as he stared into my eyes.

"Yes sir, and I want some justice! She was going to attempt to murder me!" Tony says, slamming his fist onto the table.

However, Fury rolled his eye at the over reacting inventor, muttering something about justice being to remove Tony's mouth. I sit there quietly, as he looked briefly at the Avengers.

"I wish to talk to Miss Shmidt alone," The sound of pushed chairs followed, and for a brief moment I was tempted to grab onto one of them. I wanted to, so they can drag my wheel chair out of the room with them and make sure I'm not left alone with this dangerous man.

As the door shut he looked down at me, kneeling so we were eye to eye. I bit my lip nervously before I spoke, "Are you gonna put me in jail?"

"No," He says simply, and it felt like a giant weight was removed from my chest. I gave a small sigh of relief, unknown tension disappearing along my upper back and shoulders. However, it quickly returned when he spoke, "But that doesn't mean your going to be off the hook."

I clenched the arms of the wheelchair nervously, a sense of dread coming over me. What was he gonna do to me then? What was gonna happen?

"Miss Shmidt, I need you to give me as much information as you can about Hydra. Agents Romanoff and Barton have told me about... Czaszka," He says, "From there, SHIELD can decide how exactly to handle this and what to do with you."

My mouth feels dry, I don't know where to start. I don't know how to start, so I tell him everything I find relevant first. I tell him that the main base, though it's location is hidden so well that even I don't know exactly where, is hidden somewhere in the center of Berlin, Germany.

"How do you know it's in Berlin but not know exactly where it is?"

"Whenever I left the base, they would make sure I was blindfolded until I entered a second vehicle and whenever I would return, I would need to meet someone at a location. From there, they would either blind fold me or put a bag over my head. I wasn't allowed to take it off until we were safely there."

Fury nods quietly, "Do you know how many soldiers they've recruited?"

"Hundred, I don't know exact figures."

"They have smaller bases, scattered across the globe. Alaska, Russia, Iran, Bolivia," I list after a moment of silence, Fury watches me. He's evaluating and sizing me up, thinking of a question. I dread it, I'm terrified by what I will have to say.

"Miss Shmidt," He stops, clearly changing tracks, "Did you join Hydra on your own?"

"No, I never wanted to really be involved," I continue when I see the question in his eye, "But I grew up around it. I learned that I couldn't publicly defy them without being punished. Everything I did there was.. Normal after a while. Sometimes I would forget, I'd just be going through the motions emotionlessly. I'm not proud of it, the more I'm here away from them I feel the guilt clawing at me."

I felt his hand under my chin suddenly, thumb brushing the cut on my cheek. He's studying my face and I feel like he's searching through the depths of my mind, seeing every one of my memories. He removes his hand, standing in front of me.

"I think it would be in everyone's best interest Miss Shmidt if you alliance yourself with SHIELD and stay here with the Avengers. You will be their responsibility but you will have several responsibilities to uphold as a SHIELD asset and hopefully if you choose, a Junior SHIELD agent. How does that sound?"

"More than fair sir," I say, eyes wide at how great that sounded, so much better than I had anticipated, "Thank you!"

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><p><strong>That's the chapter. Please review :D<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel branded character, most importantly: Iron Man, Hulk, Hawk-Eye, Black Widow, Captain America, and Thor. I do not own Hydra, SHIELD, Red Skull, Director Fury, Maria Hill or anything else cannon.**

**I however own my idea in this story and the way I portray it as such. **

* * *

><p>Entering the kitchen this morning, limping just a bit, I saw Hawk-Eye and Black Widow fighting for the sausages. I stood in the safety of the doorway, the plate holding the meat cylinders was thrown hazardously in the air only to be caught expertly by one of the assassins. The sausages would roll, nearly fall onto the floor only to be caught by a hand, fork or plate before it was flung back up high in the air. I walked over quietly, keeping my distance from their struggle, watching Black Widow push Hawk-Eye back. She held the plate over her head, keeping him at bay.<p>

I focus my attention back towards the others, which is actually just Dr. Banner and Captain America sitting at the island counter, nursing coffees. I gently take a seat on a stool, reaching out to take an orange. I puncture it with my thumb as Captain America placed his mug down.

"Good morning," He greets as I peel the orange away, giving me as genuine a smile as he can. But it's slightly forced, slightly hesitant and awkward. But I give him a small smiled as well.

"Good morning Captain, Dr. Banner," I say, staring at the plate of blueberry waffles. I take an orange wedge and stick it in my mouth.

They seemed too calm and quiet for my liking, it made me uneasy. Just yesterday, a certain billionaire was throwing a fit in front of the Director of Shield after my talk with him. He threw a tantrum so loud I could hear him from the other side of the door, and it wasn't just him. All the Avengers had a grievance about it, Hawk-Eye and Black Widow were calm about addressing it but they had a long list. Captain America was just a bit uneasy about having an enemy close, but he seemed to be ok with it now. Dr. Banner didn't have a concern which made me feel better. I don't think I would have survived if the Hulk joined in with the Asgardian's questions.

"Would you like a waffle?" I swallow my orange wedge, staring at the plate Dr. Banner was holding out for me.

"No thank you," I politely decline and eat a second orange wedge.

"Are you-" He was interrupted by the shatter of a plate. We both look over to see the sausages rolling a bit on the floor, a plate in shatters among them. Instead of going to clean it up, the two assassins argue over who's fault it was. Dr. Banner sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"JARVIS?"

"Right away Mr. Rogers," The AI answers, a robotic arm coming out of a secret panel in the wall to clean up the mess.

Captain America turns back to face me, Dr. Banner taking his coffee and disappearing out of the kitchen. I don't notice so much nor concerned because Captain America's posture is nonthreatening.

"So.." He trailed off, unsure what to say, "Fury tells me you were born in New York."

I nod, "Delaware County, but that was a long time ago. 14 long years ago."

"Fourteen?" He looked at me curiously, "Mind if I ask what happened?"

"I moved," I sighed. I didn't feel like going into it, they could look it up. I'm sure there must be some records about me and my parents living here fourteen years ago.

Captain America simply nods, about to say something more but was interrupted by the annoying groan from Tony Stark. I glance over, seeing the half awake billionaire stumble towards the coffee pot and practically chug it. For a moment, the only sound is the arguing from the two assassins, Stark glaring at me as though he can't exactly remember why or what I'm doing here.

"Oh yeah.." He mumbled, plopping down in a chair. He continued to glare at me, looking over to Captain America.

"Why is she here again?" Stark says in a harsh tone, while I stand knowing full well that I should leave.

"Tony," Captain America scolds as I quietly retreat, passing the assassins who were quietly whispering so they could pay attention to Captain America and Stark.

"Stop being nice to her Rogers!" I hear Stark shout angrily, "She tried to kill me! She's part of the same group that killed Barnes!"

I run as fast as I can when I hear the sounds of glass shattering, Russian shouting and other things that strike fear into my heart.

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><p>I don't know why, but I find solace with Dr. Banner. I had blindly fled the kitchen, told JARVIS to place me anywhere else but on that floor and nearly released pained tears. My ribs hurt, my calf burned in passionate pain. I was breathing through clenched teeth as I waited for the elevator to stop. I could feel my heart rapidly fluttering, filling my veins with fear instead of blood. Whatever floor I had been placed on, I found Dr. Banner shifting through a file on an IPad, staring at me curiously. He could tell I had over exert myself, it was written all over my face. He had calmly sat me down, gave me a few more pain killers and asked what happened.<p>

When I told him, he had been silent for a long time. He patted my knee, telling me to just ignore Tony. But how can you ignore that? How can I ignore that? Especially when I deserve it, I deserve to be hated.

So now, I just sat in a chair, watching Dr. Banner curiously as he looked through microscopes. He asked me to write things down, his little recorder so he didn't have to look back and forth. I did as I told, writing as neatly as I could so he could read my girly handwriting. We worked like this for about an hour, when I needed something repeated or correct spelling, the nice doctor would gladly give it to me. I noticed that he played Beethoven and Mozart in the background, at a soft volume that is seemed to blend in to the background noise if you weren't paying attention. It gave me time to think, especially about what happened in the kitchen. And I was too curious about something to keep it to myself.

"Dr. Banner," I ask after a moment, "Who's Barnes?"

Dr. Banner glanced up and sighed, "Bucky Barnes, he was an old friend of Steve's back in World War 2, he died. But it wasn't exactly Hydra who killed him. It's complicated..."

I simply nod, understanding. Things happen, especially in a war. Placing the blame is always hard, especially in whatever circumstances thoes were.

"Don't worry," He says, looking at me softly. He must see the guilt in my eyes, "You don't need to worry about Steve, he's not gonna take revenge. He's not that kind of person."

"They always said Captain America was too noble and selfless to take revenge for himself," I whisper, "I guess thats true."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel branded character, most importantly: Iron Man, Hulk, Hawk-Eye, Black Widow, Captain America, and Thor. I do not own Hydra, SHIELD, Red Skull, Director Fury, Maria Hill or anything else cannon.**

**I however own my idea in this story and the way I portray it as such. **

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><p>It was maybe one am, and I was the only person in this tower. Not even Stark's girlfriend was here, she was visiting her grandmother and I don't know how to classified JARVIS. All the Avengers were out, on a last minute mission I guess. They were needed to help in this hostage situation in Paraguay, I didn't get a chance to ask. But with them gone, I got the chance to watch tv for once.<p>

Since they left at around eight in the evening, I've had JARVIS helping me catch up on what's considered "good" tv. So far, I've caught up on all of Once Upon a Time and I was in the middle of the Red Band Society. Although, I was falling asleep on it. God, that girl Kara was heartless!

"Miss Schmidt, I should inform you that it's rather late to be watching tv."

"Your right JARVIS," I say, but smile. Great Grandfather never let me do anything, I never got to listen to music or watch TV when I wanted. Sure, I was an unwanted resident here, but I was home alone and I was prepared to take full advantage of it. I quickly paused the tv before glancing up at the ceiling. About maybe three to six hours worth of candy was coursing through me, and let's not get started on the soda.

"JARVIS, will you please play me some music? Maybe Starks personal playlist?"

"Miss Schmidt it wouldn't be wise for you to be dancing with-"

"I won't dance!" I interrupt, "I'll just listen. Please?"

I could tell JARVIS was contemplating it before he sighed, "I don't see the harm in it."

I grin, excitedly as a song comes on. I didn't recognize the lyrics, but I sang with it anyways, listening as the music echoed loudly.

_"Hey baby even though I hate ya!_

_I wanna love ya_

_I want you!_

_And even though I can't forgive you _

_I really want ya-"_

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><p>At 2:12, I was practically falling asleep on the couch with Black Widow by Iggy playing over my thoughts. I was laying on the couch among the popcorn, gummy worms, and pillows, for some reasons singing "I see the Light" quietly. Weird, my voice was hidden by the rap but still, I sang the princess song. Just as I closed my eyes to fall asleep the elevator doors dinged and opened.<p>

"WHAT THE HELL?" Stark shouted, my eyes flying open, "JARVIS WHAT THE HELL?"

"I'm sorry sir, but Miss Schmidt had asked for music," JARVIS answered over the music. I closed my eyes again, feeling his glare on me. I groan, sitting up to stare at the group, seeing Black Widow raising an eyebrow at the music.

"But- Ugh!" Apparently Stark didn't really want Romanoff to know about him downloading this song, since he looked like he was gonna pee his suit with the glare she was giving him.

I gave a tired smile at them "Black Widow baby," I smile, quickly catching the knife being thrown at my face with now slightly bleeding fingers. I tossed it behind me onto the floor as Stark watched me with his mouth hanging open.

"What?"

"Jesus JARVIS, what did you give her?"

"Relax Ironbutt!" I waved my hand at him. His face turned red in frustration, clearly resisting the urge to blast me, "I only ate some popcorn and a few hours worth of candy and soda!"

"Could have fooled me," Hawk-Eye says with a chuckle, while his partner just huffed and left to her room. I blinked, noticing that Dr. Banner and Thor weren't here. Weird.

"Hey... Where's Dr. Banner and Lord Lightning?" I yawned my hand bleeding.

"Thors in Asgard, Banners sleeping. Barton fix her hand before she stains my couch and take her to her room."

"No!"

Hawk-Eye rolled his eyes coming over and lifting me over his shoulder. I screamed in pain because of my ribs, slapping him with my blood soaked hands. He immediately dropped me back onto the couch, scowling at me as I struggle to calm down. But the pain was infuriating and it was the only thing I could feel. I felt a hand brushing my hair from my face and taking my bleeding hands. I was watching Steve Rogers carefully take care of the blood. I felt tense again, apprehensive, the affect of the candy totally wearing off now. Just as he finished, he gently lifted me and carried me out. I glanced behind me to see Hawk-Eye and Tony give me this dirty look.

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><p>Captain America carried me to my room, laying me on the mattress. He sighed for a moment, looking at me like I would start throwing up or smelling like vodka.<p>

"I wasn't drinking," I mutter, "I'm sixteen."

"Could have fooled us, did that sugar overload your system or-"

"I treated myself, Hydra never let me do anything really fun. I wasn't allowed candy, tv, I had to earn stuff, and candy was not on the list. Neither was tv...Unless it was the news."

I yawned, watching the soldier as he nods, "Get your rest. Your gonna need it. You did piss off the Widow."

I smile triumphantly, "I know... I'm not scared."

"Because you're high on sugar and overly exhausted."

"Whatever..." My eyes were closing, despite the fact that I didn't want to sleep while he was in here. I had to watch him, make sure he wouldn't hurt me.

"Well, whatever you say, it was impressive."

I should have noticed that he sounded suspicious. I should have, but I was too tired and I fell asleep on him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel branded character, most importantly: Iron Man, Hulk, Hawk-Eye, Black Widow, Captain America, and Thor. I do not own Hydra, SHIELD, Red Skull, Director Fury, Maria Hill or anything else cannon.**

**I however own my idea in this story and the way I portray it as such. **

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><p>I glanced up from the kitchen table to stare at the red headed assassin, archer, and WWII veteran. I was stirring some coffee in a mug, hunched over with my hand in the palm of my hand. There was a plate full with a Greek omelet, three sausage links and two pieces of toast. I was swinging my legs under the table, occasionally kicking Agent Barton for fun. I grabbed a fork and knife, beginning to cut into my breakfast as they watched me.<p>

"You know, pictures will last longer," I sigh, dropping the utensils when I don't get any kind of response, "What do you want?"

"We just want to know a few things," Agent Barton says, keeping a level voice.

"What sort of things?" I stab the fork into a sausage, looking at them.

"Just some stuff to break the ice, nothing invasive," Obviously, the dear captain could tell the tension was rising between us before we realized it. Agents Barton and Romanoff might have held calm expressions but I knew they were impatient and I didn't trust them. Especially after the last time they questioned me, that cut was nothing but a healing scab. I sigh, nodding before eating a sausage.

"Ok, well," Steve frowns, scratching the back of his head. Then his eyes light up just slightly when he gets an idea, "When's your birthday?"

Agent Barton snorted, looking at him, "Real original Cap."

I smirk as the dear Captain merely rolled his eyes, "March 15," But I start to scowl and think, "At least, I think it is."

"What do you mean think?"

I don't answer for a moment, unsure what to say or how to explain. I snap my fingers trying to think, the words slowly coming together, "When I was little, all I got was a little cupcake, nothing special. But after I turned eight, the days blended and I stopped getting a cupcake and I just totally stopped payng attention to the dates. I haven't celebrated it in... Well ever I guess."

When I stop, I see something flicker in their eyes; sympathy, empathy, and pity. It makes me uncomfortable, I know it's good to appeal to their gentle natures, but I'm not on a mission to kill them. I don't want to be looked at like I'm a kicked puppy. So, the next question, no matter how embarrassing or personal it was, was a relief.

"So," The archer leaned forward with a conspiratorial smirk, "Lose your virginity?"

I only regret drinking the coffee during the question. I did a spit take, coughing with a hard hand hitting my vertebrae in an attempt to hit me. I gave a small smile, seeing the captain hit the archer so hard in the arm it sent him to the floor.

I didn't speak until my coughing stopped, "Hell no, ugh," I made a face, "Anyone who tried ended up with a knife in their palm."

I saw the BlackWidow smirk, and took her turn in asking me a question. And that's sort of how breakfast went, the Russian asked me questions about my skill set. She asked how many languages I know, how long I've been training and in what way. Captain America asked about personal unimportant stuff, which wasn't really much. And Hawkeye, he asked some important stuff, like how knowledgable I am about weapons and some other random stuff that seemed unimportant.

"Ok," I roll my eyes as Clint got a renewed sense of.. honestly I don't know, but he seemed confident that the next sentence coming out of his mouth was pure genius, "If you were to be trapped in any nightmare, the worst nightmare ever, what would it be?"

I freeze, staying silent. I turn away from them, bringing my plate to the sink. I think of my nightmare, trapped on one side on the room with an invisible barrier, slowly being filled with water. People ignoring me as they pass the room, my parents with their plastered smiles. I stop before I can remember the blood, drowning in it. If I had to relive that, trapped, that be torture beyond anything Romanoff could create.

"So?"

I don't answer, limping a bit away from them, I can hear the echo of a heavy slap and Clint whine in protest.

* * *

><p>I'm laying in bed when Natasha visits me, wearing sweatpants and a tank top. I glance from my book, <em>The Catcher in the Rye <em>and close it before I turned my gaze towards her. Her green eyes are watching me, and I straighten myself and make room for her to sit on the bed.

"Clint and I have been talking with Steve," She starts, "When it comes to the Avengers, you work with us as a team, an equal. When it comes to SHIELD, Steve Clint and I are your superiors, you take our orders."

I nod, letting her continue, "Tomorrow morning, seven am in the gym. We're gonna get you warmed up, some exercises."

I nod, gently touching my side. My ribs ached, and I looked at my bandaged leg. It was gonna be a while before I did anything extreme, "Don't worry about pushing me, Hydra's been worse when it comes to injuries."

"You don't know what you saying," She whispered with an eye roll, turning to leave.

"You're right..." I whisper, "I don't."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel branded character, most importantly: Iron Man, Hulk, Hawk-Eye, Black Widow, Captain America, and Thor. I do not own Hydra, SHIELD, Red Skull, Director Fury, Maria Hill or anything else cannon.**

**I however own my idea in this story and the way I portray it as such. **

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><p>I woke up at the crack of dawn, staring at the ceiling for a long moment as I collect my thoughts. I feel my heart beat, erratic, in my chest, pumping the oxygenated blood throughout my entire body.<p>

When I close my eyes, all I can see is the fading remains of my nightmare. I see the glint of the knife, the bright flashes of blood and my great grandfathers dark eyes. But when I open my eyes all I see is the ceiling.

Knowing that I'm not going to get anymore sleep, I crawl out of bed and stumble clumsily to my closet. I grab a tank top and some sweats, along with some undergarments before making my way to the bathroom. I push through the bathroom door, leaving my bedroom for the bathroom.

I place my clothes on the granite sink counter, turning on the shower. I place my hand under it, feeling the hot and steaming water soak my skin. I close my eyes for a moment before undressing and carefully slipping in. I glance down at my bandages, feeling the water soak through and the material start to cling and lose durability. I sigh before grabbing the teal bar of soap and scrub all the sweat and grime from my skin. As I scrub, I put a lot more force over all my scars, fresh and fading ones, trying to wash them away. But I know it's gonna take more than soap to clean my bloody ledger, so after a while, I turn to the my shampoo and conditioner. The scents of green apples and lemongrass respectfully.

Fifteen minutes later, I sit on the sink counter redressing my injuries. Taking a comb, I begin to remove the knots in my hair, preparing to braid it when I'm done. I glance at my reflection, briefly taking in the sight of my bear shoulders and scarred back. My skin is so pale, and while I should be examining my face for any blemishes like a normal teenage girl, all I can look at are the scars. How many injuries have I endured under my great grand father?

I hadn't realized I begun to braid my hair until it was done, and that was after I pulled the tank top over my head. As I carefully slide the sweats on, I examine my face, looking at my eyes. I never truly realized how dark brown they were, how endless it looks, like a vast abyss. And they don't look like the eyes of a killer, of a monster like the man who ordered me here.

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><p>It took me about ten more minutes to find the gym, but when I do, I'm struck by how vast it is. The room stretches out, with ordinary dark grey walls and a dark oak floor. Stretched out to my left are different sets of weights, with cubbies and shelves for the different sets. Behind that are high tech tread mills, rowers and elliptical machines. On the right, stretching out to the farthest corner, is gymnastic and martial arts equipment. The floor is completely covered with dark blue mats, punching bags hang from the ceiling. The wall is lined with cubbies and shelves for boxing gloves and protective tape. Gymnastic bars are set up, reaching higher than I've ever seen before. As I glance to the right I see another conjecture to the room, that branches off beside and even behind the elevator. An archerymarks-men ground with several different kinds of arrows, guns and bullets just waiting to be used.

I look around, unsure of what I should do first. Any activity using my legs or abdomen would result in pain and a lecture from Bruce. So, rolling my shoulders, I walk over to a hand bar and reached over my head for it. I gripped it tightly, before pulling myself up for chin ups. At first I'm struggling, my arms shake uneasily and I take too long to do it properly. But my arms soon stop shaking, and I fall into a steady rhythm of pulling myself up and lowering myself down. It comes naturally, that I seem to just lose track of time.

"I wasn't expecting you for another 25 minutes," A voice says, ten minutes later. Standing a few feet from the elevator, Natasha Romanoff stretches her arms. I suddenly realize that I've stopped doing chin ups and the realization causing my arms to shake violently until I fall on my butt.

I blink, seeing Natasha reach her hand down to help me up. I graciously accept it, and as I get to my feet, she pushes a gun into my palm.

"What-"

"Since you've gone ahead and started to work out, lets see how well you shoot."

I take the gun and spin it before heading to the gun range. I look into the chamber to see rubber bullets replacing the real ones, cocking an eyebrow as I look to the Black Widow for explanation.

"You didn't really think I'd give you a loaded weapon did you?"

"touché," I mutter, standing with my feet shoulder length apart and hold the gun. From the corner of my eye, I see Natasha flip a few switches which in turn causes the targets to move.

I pull the trigger, watching the bullets fly, hitting close to the center. Not dead on, but pretty close. I'm not distracted by the recoil of the gun, I don't even notice it as I shoot. I glance over, noticing Natasha take position next to me, and begin to shoot as well, the only sound is from our weapons.

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><p><strong>... I guess you could call this a boring chapter... it's gonna hopefully lead somewhere. <strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel branded character, most importantly: Iron Man, Hulk, Hawk-Eye, Black Widow, Captain America, and Thor. I do not own Hydra, SHIELD, Red Skull, Director Fury, Maria Hill or anything else cannon.**

**I however own my idea in this story and the way I portray it as such. **

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><p>I spend the next two weeks or so waking up extremely early from nightmares, taking showers and heading down to train with Natasha until breakfast. Every day we do something a little different, sometimes it's weapons and sometimes it's sparringfighting. But whenever we finish, we head up to breakfast together in silence, Natasha starts making coffee and I start rummaging through the fridge for ingredients. And after that, everything's different, but most of the time I'm avoiding Tony.

Tony is the one Avenger who still holds a grudge against me, he's constantly looking at me with a disgusted look, talking about me in a voice filled with powerful distaste. Clint and Thor just regard me politely as something more than a stranger but less than an acquaintance. Steve and Bruce are the same, but the latter gentleman is rather curious and professional when it comes to my health while the prior is acting purely a gentleman. The only one that seems to bother me is Natasha, who looks at me with a gaze I am unable to recognize. Usually, I encounter people who pretend to like me and regard me as a friend, but truly hate me. However, Natasha is a rather strange exception, looking at me in a way that I hypothesis is the opposite. Whenever I catch that look, I interpret it as Natasha forcing herself to not be friendly, which is just odd. Natasha Romanoff should not demonstrate this, she should be squared between Tony Stark and all the other residents of the towers, being polite but distrustful. Instead it feels like she's on an entirely new scale.

And it's completely confusing.

Its cold outside, the sky so dark and grey it's almost blocking out the sun completely. I'm staring out the window of one of Stark's many conference rooms, tapping my fingers rather bored. I'm not paying attention, because it's just Director Fury and Commander Hill giving the Avengers another assignment. Or really, the four of us that are S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Today, my usual plans are interrupted by this meeting that Barton insisted I attend, the only words I actually paid attention to is mass murderer and hiding in Ukraine. I don't see why I should be here, I'm not gonna be involved or help.

"Schmidt," I turned my head over to Fury, who insists on using my last name, "Are you even listening to this?"

"No," I answer, reaching over and taking a debriefing file, "Why would you need me in here when I'm not-"

I stop talking, because my name is on the sheet. Director Fury is sending me on my first mission. My face grows hot, and I focus on the assignment, tuning in to the rest of what Fury has to say while I read and catch up.

* * *

><p>I sigh, looking over at Clint as he drives us down the street, driving the car so smoothly that the black vehicle doesn't hit one bump. Im fiddling with my purse, looking down at my gaudy, over the top slutty dress. It was a skin tight, emerald green dress with flowers made out of some sort of glittery substance I couldn't decide was really fancy super-dress glue or tiny sequences. It stopped just at mid calf, exposing my bare legs and the sides were cut out exposing my raw skin to the world. It just covered my breasts, and revealed most if not my entire back. My arms were bear and the only thing holding this all up was a little choker, this weird design where a small bit of fa rice goes around your throat.<p>

"I feel like a whore and a slut had a baby," I mutter using a mirror to check my make up. My mascara was fine, the green and silver eyeshadow was perfect, and the eyeliner was almost finished. The blush gave me a darker complexion, and in my green purse was a few rounds of amo, a taser, handcuffs, and a gun. As I tossed the eyeliner into the purse with the rest of the makeup, I apply the lipstick, turning my lips a very dark green.

Clint merely chuckled, "Get use to it, remember the plan?"

"Yes," I sigh finished with my makeup. I gently start to check the earpiece, making sure it's concealed in my left ear.

My dark hair was redone, the part was changed so a majority of it hangs on the left, concealing the ear piece her hanging in my face, giving me a mysterious look. I have pins holding it all in place so the ear piece isn't seen but Natasha can hear all the Russian being said and help me respond. Since I don't know Russian and Natasha is not exactly on good terms with her homeland, we decided this be the safest way to apprehend our culprit.

"Remember, Tasha's on comms, I'll be behind the bar. You need anything and we'll be there to handle it."

I scoff, opening the door, and nearly tripping in my high heels, "You wish..." I mutter.

I hear Clint pull away as I enter the building. The windows are alive with color and activity, from what Fury said about the place, the Shady Candle is not only an awesome club for people to get drunk, high and in bed with a stranger but also for criminals to lay low and meet, since none of the people here are sober enough to realize they're sitting near a killer. Fury's lead had tracked our target Armand Regaldo to this club, apparently he's either got business here, hiding here, or he likes to party.

Entering the club, Im suddenly tripping over my own two feet and people. The building is crammed with people making out at the tables and booth pushed to a dark corner, people stumbling near the bar with vodka, and grinding all over the dance floor while music plays. The air smells of vomit, sweat and vodka, completely masking my fruity perfume. I'm already scanning the room, trying to find Armand when I jerk away, glaring at the tall, 26 year old smiling at me with a drunks grin. I move away, looking some more for him, maneuvering around the crowds to try and find him. Maybe he's hiding in a back room or-

My ankle suddenly gives out, sending me closer to the ground. Just as my knees are about to hit the floor, strong hands grab my arms and lift me up. I look up, seeing a tall man steadying me.

"Ty v poryadke?"

Natasha is immediately translating in my ear, _"Are you ok? Answer back Da spasibo. Yes, thank you."_

But I don't speak, at least not immediately. I'm too busy staring at his somewhat grey complexion, his dark blonde hair gleams from excess hair gel, smoothed back in an obnoxious, sleaze ball like manner. His green eyes stare at my dress, not my face, and he smells strongly of musk. Armand Regaldo. I go to speak, but he beats me to the punch.

"YAzyk proglotil?"

_"Cat got your tongue? Try this, __YA byl slishkom otvlechen svoimi vneshnost'yu. I was too distracted with your good looks." _

I inwardly cringe, Regaldo is not handsome. He had an angular face, with a large round nose sitting there. He had a bushy mustache that covered his entire top lip and stretched down the sides of his mouth to his chin. And to top it all off, his eyebrows were pencil thin.

Yet, I swallowed my hesitation and resistance, forcing myself to say it seductively. As the sentence tumbled out of my mouth, he seemed to smile, his large hands rubbing their calloused fingers along my skin. I repress the urge to shiver in distaste, finding a way to keep the goosebumps away.

Regaldo examines my face now, and I silently pray that he doesn't see a sixteen year old girl through all the makeup. I hope he sees a young girl who must be at least 19 or 21, but just looks a bit young. I pray that the makeup doesn't give me away, and I only relax when he smiles, leaning in close. He whispers in my ear, Natasha saying that he's asking for a dance. I nod, not wanting to speak in more Russian at the moment. I feel his grip tighten, and he pulls me along to the dance floor.

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><p>I can't tell how long I've been dancing with him, but I know that it's been too long. All I want to do is take a long shower and scrub off his greasy fingerprints, cleanse myself of his touch. So it's a relieve when he whispers in my ear, asking if we can take this somewhere else. I force myself to not gag at all the perverse ideas he must have, his breath smelling more of alcohol than of mint after I bought him a few drinks.<p>

I simply nod, letting him lead me towards the back of the club and up the stairs. He's leading me towards the more private rooms, where I can only suspect from the sounds of what is actually happening in there. He opened an unlocked door, letting me in first but as he closes the door behind him, I can hear the turning tumblers as he locks it.

But as I stare at the bed, feeling my heart rate spike, I remind myself that I'm here to apprehend secretly. If I have to toy around a bit before I can get a good moment, I will. When he steps closer, along the very creaky floor, I turn to see him unbuttoning his dark blue shirt.

"It's very hot in here..." He says in English, catching me by surprise. He chuckles, cupping my face for a moment, "Darling, I know russian isn't your first language. No need to keep using it."

I sigh, looking up at him. I take note of the way he stumbles a bit because of how many drinks he's had. I follow him, making a big show of stumbling, because he thinks I'm as drunk as him, if not maybe a bit more. But in reality, I never really had a single alcoholic beverage, what with Clint playing bartender downstairs. I don't know how, but at the same time I don't care, he gave me water and my target a slightly stronger drink than he requested. I pretend to slip, falling onto the bed dramatically and start to giggle, watching as Regaldo sits next to me, helping me into a sitting position.

"How'd you figure it out," I ask, "Was it that horrible?"

"No... But you hesitate too long when your translating in your head..." He chuckled, not noticing my hands and purse slip behind my back, out of view. His hands are resting on my legs, he's looking at me with something close to lust.

"Oh..." I say, distractedly as he gets closer. I get uncomfortable but don't scoot away, instead I let him get closer. I feel the handcuffs in my right palm and the gun in my left.

"Yes... But.. They say woman who are slow translators make excellent kissers.." He leans closer, and that's when I slam the handcuffs on his wrists, punching him right in that large nose. He jerks back, nearly stumbling off the bed, giving me time to load the gun and hold it at him.

"Armand Regaldo, SHIELD has a warrant for your arrest," My voice is level, my hands don't shake as I keep the weapon steady.

He glares getting to his feet and trying to kick the gun out of my hands. I move out of the way easily, his movements are sluggish, and shoot at his right leg. It hits but he knocks the gun into the air before he falls. It hits the ceiling and scatters across the floor, and before I fully understand what's happening, his legs knock mine out from under me. His hands reach out to strangle my throat, but my purse falls with me. I dig my hand in to it then pull out the taser, pressing it to Armand's neck. He shakes, a silent cry of pain caught in his throat before he passes out.

I take a deep breath, getting up and slowly going to retrieve the gun and unlock the door. I sigh, "Widow, send Cap to come help collect Regaldo. I had to taze him, for a drunk, he's an idiot fighter. Room 14."

_"Aren't they all, nice job Jill. Steve's on his way."_

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><p><strong><em>CHAPTER TEN! How do you like it? Was the ending rushed? <em>**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel branded character, most importantly: Iron Man, Hulk, Hawk-Eye, Black Widow, Captain America, and Thor. I do not own Hydra, SHIELD, Red Skull, Director Fury, Maria Hill or anything else cannon.**

**I however own my idea in this story and the way I portray it as such. **

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><p>I casually stroll into the kitchen, hoping to get an afternoon snack of goldfish when I see a mountain of groceries littering every square inch of the kitchen. Trapped by the grocery traffic in the doorway, I force myself to stand on my tippy toes, and see who bought all this food.<p>

"Steve? What the hell man?" He spun around to stare at me, clearly taken aback a bit by how loosely I use the term _hell_, "What's with the food?"

"Thanksgiving," Steve said, "Last minute food shopping. Apparently, Tony didn't think we were gonna do anything special. But we are."

"Thanksgiving?" I scowl, "Please tell me I'm not going to have to give Stark a gift!"

"No," Steve says, "Tony won't even be here, he's going with Pepper to have Thanksgiving dinner with her family. While the rest of us, have dinner here. Now help me put this all away, Barton and I have a lot of cooking to do."

So ideally, Thanksgiving is not the most perfect holiday. However, it's getting Stark out of the tower and any day that does that is an awesome day! Unfortunately, Steve likes to point out that there is a lot more for me to be thankful for other than being rid of Stark for one evening. Though, I haven't any idea what that would be, I hardly know what this holiday is anyways. All I know is that it now has me banished from the kitchen until Thanksgiving dinner.

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><p>The next morning, I'm awoken not by the alarm but by a figure shaking the bed. My eyes open, to give way to the fuzzy image of Romanov, on her hands and knees, shaking the bed from on top of me. I groan, turning over, "Natasha... Sleep..."<p>

"Wake up..." Natasha pinches my ear, making me straighten with a yelp. For a moment, we bonk heads, slightly discombobulated. But she recovers first, pulling me out of bed.

"Natasha..." I whine, "You promised no training!"

"I know," She says, wrestling with me to get my nightshirt off, "But this isn't training. Come on, we need to get you dressed."

"Why do you hate me!" I whine, weakly fighting with her to keep the pajamas on. Unfortunately, by the time we are done, I'm wearing black leggings, that are warmer than they appear, an orange long sleeve shirt with a dark brown jacket over it and a grey scarf draped around my neck. I'm wearing dark brown boots, and I'm exhausted.

"Come on, we have to go..." Natasha says, taking me by the arm and dragging me to the living room. In there, I see a grumpy Tony nursing a large mug of steaming coffee, Steve tapping his foot anxiously, a smile threatening to split his face. Thor stands about, asking Banner what is so important that they had to get up at five o clock in the morning. Then there's Clint, with a camera around his neck and a thermos in hand. Everyone is wearing at least two to three layers like myself except for Natasha who claims that New York doesn't know the definition of cold. Just as I begin to ask where it was we were going, Pepper, Tony's girlfriend, enters the room.

"Come on, let's get a move on," She insists, ushering us towards the elevator.

"Where are we going?"

Clint glances back at me, smiling, "The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade."

"The what?"

"Come on, see for yourself." Clint grips my arm, dragging me after him into the elevator.

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><p>What is so appealing about a parade? I don't understand why I have to be awake three hours before it starts, to get a good seat when I'm going to be cramped against people.<p>

"Why can't we just watch this on tv or at the tower?"

"Because it's not as fun," Clint says from behind me, holding a cup of hot coffee. Next to him, Bruce and Thor are craning their necks to get a good look at the incoming floats and performers.

"This is what you Americans consider fun?" My voice is filled with bitterness, before Thor shouts out, "HARK! Up there my fellow warriors! A flying dog with a yellow bird!"

"That's Snoopy and WoodStock Thor," Tony says, "We've been over this, they're balloons."

"Yes I know."

I roll my eyes, turning my gaze to the marching bands behind them, playing Bohemian Rap. Clint's elbow kept jabbing me in the side, the archer getting excited at the Broadway snippets, from A Man's guide to Woman and murder to Peter Pan. I scoff hiding how impressed and awestruck I was. We didn't have anything like this in Germany, Hydra certainly didn't attend any parades.

Natasha smirked leaning forward to get a better look at Tom the Turkey coming through the streets. I frown, "What's with the turkey?"

"He's a huge Thanksgiving figure."

"He's what we eat."

"Shut up," Tony snapped, "Megan Trainor is singing."

"No one cares Stark," I say, really bored. I turn, deciding to get something to eat, hungry, "I'm gonna get something to eat." No one answers me as I slip away from them, heading to Nuncas, purchasing three empanadas filled with short rib and spicy chicken. Ok, not the ideal traditional breakfast, but who cares.

Taking a bite from a chicken filled empanada, I turn back to find my way back to the Avengers through the thick crowd. I glance up, hearing cheering as the Spider-Man balloon comes through, doing his signature web shooting move. Unfortunately, the cheers soon turn to screaming when I hear the ever familiar voice scream, "HULK WANT BALLOON!"

"Damn it hulk," I mutter, shoving the last two empanadas in my mouth, dropping the tiny cardboard tray holder as I force my way through the crowd. Hulk had somehow managed to get into the street, Tony and Steve trying to calm him down.

"WHY BUG MAN GET BALLOON? HULK WANT BALLOON!"

"Don't worry Hulk, I'll talk to the directors of the parade, we'll get you a balloon for next year! In fact, a balloon for all the Avengers! How do you like that Hulk?"

Hulk nods, glaring at the balloon, "Hulk don't like Bug Man balloon. Hulk smash!"

"No-no, hulk don't smash." Steve sighed, "I think it's time we head back to the tower..."

"After Hulk Smash!"

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><p>No, Hulk didn't smash the balloon. He tried very hard to get the chance, but Steve was able to talk some sense into him... and Thor. The Prince of Asgard soon agreed with Hulk when he realized how honorable it would be. We barely escaped the situation without popping a large balloon and running into a TV crew. It took a while to change Thor back into Bruce, and when we did Bruce hid in his room embarrassed for the remainder of the morning and early afternoon.<p>

I spent the rest of the day, attempting to watch something good on TV but the only thing on was Thanksgiving Specials and then football. Ugh, Thor, Tony, and Bruce spent the entire time watching the game, leaving me to hide in the training room and best the stuffing out of a punching bag. I hadn't seen head or tail of Natasha, but Clint and Steve were in the kitchen cooking.

At 4:30, when Pepper and Tony left to go spend dinner with Pepper's family, Clint took Tony's place in the living room, watching football. Ugh, boys... if I could just steal the tv remote.

It was only at 5:30 did JARVIS alert me that it was time for dinner. Reluctantly, I entered the elevator, heading for the kitchen. I didn't really know what to expect, I've never had a thanksgiving dinner before, atleast I don't remember being at any.

I froze in the doorway, staring at the kitchen counter and table, seeing all the food spread out. There was a golden brown turkey, with gravy boat sitting between it and a bowl of mountain high white mashed potatoes. Sitting next to that was a red, jelly like delicacy Clint explained was Cranberry Sauce. And beside that was a corn casserole, green bean casserole lemon maple squash and sweet potato pecan casserole. So much food...

"About time you got here, I'm starving!" Clint complained, holding a plate, "Can we eat yet?"

"Not yet Barton, we need to say grace," Steve says.

As Steve recites the grace, I share a glance with Natasha. I don't know where she's been all day since we got back, but she's clearly not happy. Whatever it is, I shouldn't ask but my curiosity gets the best of me. We both hang back while the boys pile their plates up with mountains of food, bringing them back to the living room to watch the rest of the game. I look at Natasha, getting my own servings of the food, "Where have you been all day?"

"On the phone."

"Everything ok?"

"No."

"oh..." I say softly, looking at her, "What's wrong?"

"Maria forcibly invited me to go shopping tomorrow with her and Pepper."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Tomorrow is Black Friday."

"Ok..." I said, deciding to not ask what that was, "And you don't want to go shopping."

"Exactly."

"Sucks for you."

"Us."

"Excuse me?"

"Sucks for us, you're coming with me."

I stared at Natasha, placing my plate on the table before I dropped it or threw it in her face. I back away from the table, loudly cussing her out in every language I know.

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><p><strong>New Chapter :D <strong>


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